


Drunk Flirting with FitzSimmons

by agentmoonshoes



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Flirting, F/M, SHIELD Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmoonshoes/pseuds/agentmoonshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Academy-era. Fitz and Simmons get drunk at a Boiler Room party, and are both flustered by the flirting that ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Flirting with FitzSimmons

**Drunk Flirting with FitzSimmons**

In hindsight, allowing themselves to be goaded into joining an alcohol-laden after-party wasn’t their best idea ever.

A bit funny, because the party was actually a celebration _of_ their best idea ever.

Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, the youngest and brightest the academy had to offer, had finally teamed up and done a project together. A project that blew away all the professors and earned the Sci-Tech division new funding that was originally meant to go to Operations. A project that merited an official honored banquet night…

…Which then turned into one hell of an after-party in the Boiler Room.

"To Fitz and Simmons!" someone shouted.

"FITZSIMMONS!" another person slurred.

The entire party raised their glasses, and shouts of “FITZSIMMONS!” echoed off the walls.

“Aw, come on now,” Fitz said. His face flushed as he was handed yet another drink. “It wasn’t much. Anyone could’ve done it, really.”

“An autonomously-mobilized bone-setting drone was just the next logical step in field-accessible first aid technology,” Simmons insisted.

“Just shut up and drink!” An upperclassman slapped them both on the back, causing their beverages to slosh out onto the floor a little bit.

Simmons looked at Fitz. They’d already had a couple glasses of wine at the banquet, had taken two celebratory shots upon entering the after-party, and had just finished a mixed drink of unknown alcohol content from one of their chemistry classmates.

“I will if you will,” Fitz answered her unspoken question. His grin was wider and more lopsided than usual from the alcohol he’d consumed already.

Simmons laughed. They clinked glasses and downed their newest mystery beverage.

Everyone cheered. They set down their glasses, and somewhere in Simmons brain she knew they really should go get some water so that they wouldn’t be sick the next day. The trouble was, the room wasn’t on its proper axis anymore. Usually, walls are 90 degrees from floors and ceilings, but the Boiler Room was insisting on wavering in and out of all  realities of basic structural engineering. Simmons had to make an extra effort to walk straight. Even if Fitz was already stumbling, she wasn’t about to suffer that embarrassment herself.

Soon enough, they found themselves leaning up against the bar together, and Simmons couldn’t quite remember why she’d insisted they’d come over there. Fitz began to drift sideways, sliding against the bar, so Simmons grabbed for him, using both hands to pull him back to her side.

“Well, that’s a bit forward of you, don’t you think?” Fitz smiled at her as she forcefully positioned him upright on a bar stool. The alcohol was making him far bolder than he’d usually be. 

“Oh Fitz, trust me, you would know if I was being forward,” Simmons replied, dancing around the sly look he was giving her as she smoothed his shirt with her hands.

“YEAH he would!” another student chimed in, high-fiving his neighbor.

“You could be forward with me any day,” a guy said, leaning up against the bar next to Simmons.

Simmons scanned the new guy over, coming to a quick conclusion that he was nothing special, and turned back to Fitz. “Sorry, but not going to happen,” she said, half over her shoulder.

Fitz’s grin grew. “Aww, Simmons. I’m flattered, but you should live a little. Don’t let me hold you back.” He regarded her with mock concern.

Simmons snorted. “You’re one to talk! Why not find yourself a little someone to live a little with?”

Fitz rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes drifting around the Boiler Room. “Maybe I will.”

Simmons laughed. “This I need to see.”

The guy from earlier cut in between her and Fitz, reaching to play with Simmons’ hair. “Come on, Jemma, just let me get you another drink and maybe you’ll see I’m worth a shot.”

“Found someone!” Fitz exclaimed, pushing the guy out of the way and grabbing Simmons by the wrist.

Giggling way more than she had any right to, Simmons allowed Fitz to pull her over to his barstool.

“Looks like I’m taken,” she grinned. “Sorry!”

The interloper rolled his eyes at them. “Should’ve known…” he shook his head, wandering off.

Both Fitz and Simmons were laughing so hard that Fitz fell off of his stool. Simmons put her hand on his chest to hold him steady before he hit the floor.

Clearly, the bar wasn’t the best place for them tonight. Together, they moved to a table with lower chairs, and when they got there, Simmons surprised both of them by sitting in Fitz’s lap.

“This really is quite the party,” she said. “All for us, too. You know, we make a pretty good team.” Now that her giggling had subsided, Simmons could feel her eyes growing heavy. It was nearing three in the morning, and the alcohol wasn’t exactly acting as a stimulant.

“Yeah, we do, don’t we?” Fitz agreed, shifting a little so Simmons could sit more comfortably on him.

Simmons leaned into Fitz, setting her head on his shoulder and smiling as he put a somewhat flustered arm around her.

“Though we should get you to bed if you’re getting tired,” Fitz said.

“I suppose so,” Simmons agreed. “Take me?” She wasn’t sure what made her say it, or what made her snuggle further into Fitz as she did so, but she _did_ notice Fitz’s heart rate kick up at that request.

“Ah…well, people are going to talk if I we leave together. ‘Specially if we go to your room.” Fitz swallowed.

“No they won’t,” Simmons argued sleepily.

“Simmons, half of campus believes we’re sleeping together already, with all the time we spend around one another nowadays,” Fitz pointed out.

“That’s silly,” Simmons murmured into his chest. “What are they thinking? We have no natural chemistry. Everything’s so intellectual between us, you know?”

“No natural chemistry?” Fitz looked down at her. She didn’t see him raise one hand to push a strand of her hair out of her face, then change his mind and lower it again.

“Pheromones, Fitz,” Simmons explained, snaking her arm around his back. “Something that draws two people together. You know. Physically.”

“Ah.” Fitz leaned down, resting his head against hers as her arm tightened around him. “Right.”

Simmons sighed contentedly. He was so warm. “I can’t believe anyone would see that with us.”

“Me neither,” Fitz whispered. His lips were next to her ear, and Simmons shuddered as he spoke. “No chemistry here.”

“Exactly,” Simmons managed to say, fighting back tingles in the pit of her stomach. What were those about, anyway? This was _Fitz_ she was with right now.

“Nothing here at all,” Fitz continued, his lips even closer to her ear than before. “Just two friends—”

“—enjoying each other’s company,” Simmons finished, pulling his face back from hers. She locked her eyes onto his. Both of them were trembling and neither of them was willing to admit why.

They were on the edge of something dangerous. Really, really dangerous. Simmons bit at her lower lip to stop herself from licking it, her stomach continuing to flip around itself. Was it Fitz, or was it the alcohol? God, she didn’t know which answer she’d prefer…

After another moment, Fitz's intense gaze slowly drifted down over Simmons' face, and vice versa. Simmons knew that this was it. It would be so easy to change everything between them. So easy…all she needed to do was lean in…

And mess up the best friendship she’d ever made.

“I _should_ get going to bed, shouldn’t I?” Simmons tore her eyes away from Fitz, concentrating absurdly hard on the table they were sitting at.

Fitz nodded, quickly letting go of her. “Yeah. Yeah, probably. That’s a good plan.” His eyes, flooded with baffled panic, looked every which way except hers.

Simmons slid off Fitz’s lap, and they left the party separately without another word.

…

The next morning, sitting in the cafeteria with two awful hangovers, a silent agreement was made between the two of them to _never_ mention that night again.

 


End file.
